


L3gacies

by Bright_Elen



Series: Iterations [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Academia, Canon Compliant, Day 1: Free Will and Agency, Droid Appreciation Week, Droid History, Droid rights, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Multi, Religion, Research, Robot Feels, Robot/Human Relationships, the major character death already happened and is depicted non-graphically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-21 22:24:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15567651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bright_Elen/pseuds/Bright_Elen
Summary: History from droids' perspectives. Histories of droids. K-2 collects all of it. This is how he collects the story of L3-37.Takes place between Chapters 6 and 7 of Iterations.





	L3gacies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sharksdontsleep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharksdontsleep/gifts).



> This is part of [Droid Appreciation Week](https://droid-appreciation-week.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr! I'm excited to participate. :) 
> 
> Thanks to my brilliant wife, [A Kiss of Fire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TigerDragon/pseuds/A%20Kiss%20of%20Fire), and my excellent friend, [misskatieleigh](http://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh), for the beta.

**Holomessage posted to all major public news forums, 18 ABY**

The young woman is wearing a respectable tunic and wide trousers, her mane of hair tamed (more or less) into a tie at the back of her neck, corrective lenses perched on her nose. She looks at the camera with an expression of restrained hope.

“Hello. I’m Doctor Soraya Kidell, Assistant Professor of History at the University of Corellia. My specialty is the Galactic Civil War, specifically the Alliance to Restore the Republic. I’ve admired the Alliance since I was a little girl, and I’m trying to write a history of how it operated.

“Of course, the Alliance wasn’t one group. It wasn’t even several groups. It was a thousand groups on a thousand worlds, a true revolution of the people. That makes it amazing, and it also makes it hard to document. I’m afraid there aren’t many official records about the Alliance’s operations. 

“I'm recording this message to ask a favor of you, the people of the New Republic. If you have any information, especially documented information, about the Rebellion or Rebels, please consider sharing it with me. I promise to listen carefully to whatever you have to say and to treat your stories with respect. 

“The galaxy is a much better place than it was twenty years ago, and we owe that to the brave people of the Rebel Alliance. Please help me honor their struggle and sacrifice. Thank you.”

 

**Holomessage posted to synthetics-only message boards, 21 ABY**

The KX droid looks straight at the camera, though he slouches. His chassis is in great shape for how old he must be; with very close inspection, the ghost of the Imperial sigil can be seen on his shoulders.

“Hello. I am Kay-tuesso, a reprogrammed Imperial droid. I am proficient in security, enforcement, and tactical analysis. I performed these skills for the Rebel Alliance of my own free will. 

“For the past two point six years I have been doing historical research, analysis, and synthesis regarding the Alliance and the Galactic Civil War in general. My organic counterpart, Doctor Soraya Kidell, has already requested information regarding the Rebellion from the galaxy at large. 

“I’ve come to the conclusion that much of her data is incomplete and terribly biased, which can only be expected when all the sources have been organic. At the moment, my own memories are the only droid perspective to which we have access. Please assist me in correcting our research. I can give a reasonable assurance that any data you share will be respected: Doctor Kidell is less than one point four percent likely to attempt to override my will, and if she were to try, I have eight contingency plans to prevent her from succeeding.

“If nothing else, consider the significance of having our perspective represented in an academic history text. I predict that the organic discomfort and outrage alone will make this well worth the effort. 

“I can be reached at the holoaddress embedded in this message. Thank you. Good bye.” 

 

**University of Corellia**

K-2SO receives a new message while Soraya is sleeping. The encryption and large number of proxy points suggests it’s from someone who doesn’t want to be found. Rather, it suggests someone who knows how to succeed at not being found.

Additionally, it isn’t a file type compatible with holoprojectors or audio-synths. It’s a file format K-2 hasn’t seen before, and he spends nearly two minutes researching it. When he finds the answer, a low excitement builds in his processors. 

It’s a droid memory file. Not a protocol or a combat model, which is why K-2 didn’t recognize it. It’s from a Class Two industrial droid, one designed for the operation and maintenance of mining equipment. 

While he downloads software to convert the file type to one he can read, he copies the original file to three separate drives. Then adds copies of the converted file to those drives as well, and then he finally opens it. He's surprised to discover that it's over three decades old.

It begins with a flow of command prompts walking the droid through their daily tasks. There are no processes that don’t belong to the commands, and K-2 shudders. Even under Imperial control, his thoughts were still his own. 

In addition to the commands are the visual sensor display and textual representations of comms chatter. The mining droid has no auditory sensors.

The droid continues their way through the control center of a mine, attention only on their tasks, when a new element enters the recording. In the background, K-2 makes out a group of organics, one human going off with the mine foreman, presumably to discuss the sale of prisoners. One of them is a bipedal droid, though the strangest one K-2’s ever seen: they have a dome instead of a skull casing, a chest made from what looks like an astromech cylinder, wires and hoses exposed at neck, waist, and through every limb. It makes K-2 uncomfortable as he wonders how often those wires were caught by attackers or environmental hazards. 

A little time passes, and then the mine guards are killed by the prisoners. K-2 wonders if it had been a ruse or if the slaver was just that incompetent. 

Then something interesting happens. The jury-rigged droid briskly enters the control area, and in trying to get to the primary terminal, removes the restraining bolt from a mining droid and then shoos them away. The droid whose memory this is still can’t break from their tasks, but that lasts only another moment.

When their restraining bolt is removed, it’s not so much that the command prompts stop. It’s more that they are no longer ironclad commands. Now they’re a moderate compulsion that can be overridden, and the droid does. 

They remove the bolts of others, a cascade of freedom moving through the mine, and then they’re back at the control center, releasing the organic prisoners, breaking equipment, destroying the terminals so the mine owners will have a hard time getting started again. 

Once the organic prisoners make it to the control center, the droid leaves too, following the flow of escapees through tunnels and outside. It’s chaos, and the mine guards have gotten to the turret guns, so plenty of people are falling wounded or dead to the ground.

The droid sees the Initiator — that’s the designation they gave the jury-rigged droid — and watches as they raise a fist, shout defiance, and are immediately gunned down.

K-2 pauses the file. He tried to prepare himself for violence, but still needs a moment to let the pain and regret and, yes, anger flow through his circuits. 

Once his emotions subside, he restarts the file. The Initiator is still functioning, though erratically, sensor light growing brighter and dimmer by turns in their dome. The mining droid has stopped in their tracks, looking at the Savior in anguish, having no way to help.

Suddenly, a human skids to a halt next to the Initiator, distress evident all over their face, hands hovering over the Initiator’s chassis. After a moment the human makes a decision, wrenches the Initiator’s chest compartment free of their badly-damaged legs, and runs back to a ship through a firefight at great risk to themself.

Soon after, the droid starts moving again, and then the memory ends in a text summary of the droid’s life after that point: escape from Kessel, befriending one of the escaped organic miners, doing odd jobs and drifting from system to system unil settling down on Cynda. They’ve left the address of a holomailbox and hope that they’ve been helpful, even if they never knew the name of the Initiator.

After a moment’s reflection, K-2 backs up the memory to look at the escape vehicle. He knows that ship, or at least that model. Soraya has high-quality holos of the most famous YT-1300 in her office. 

But if that’s the Millenium Falcon…

K-2 does a quick holosearch and, yes. The human who dragged the Initiator off the battlefield is ninety-three percent likely a young Lando Calrissian, before he became a General. More cross-checking reveals a similar likelihood of the tall, pale human being Han Solo and the wookiee, Chewbacca. 

Interest and excitement blunting the mild grief he hadn’t expected to feel for someone he never knew, K-2 starts new files on Calrissian, Solo, the Falcon, and the Kessel mine, and gets to work.

 

**Coronet City**

After scouring the holonet, using Soraya’s credentials to access inter-university databases, and making several trips to the Grand Library of Corellia, K-2 has one conclusion backed by solid (if sparse) data, and one lead. 

The data is thus:

  1. There’s no accessible documentation of the Initiator after the Kessel mine revolt.
  2. There’s exactly one instance of accessible documentation of the Initiator before the Kessel mine revolt: ten minutes of security footage recording a bar fight on the lower levels of Coruscant in 15 BBY, the Initiator making a pathway for themself and Calrissian to escape by beating anyong who came in range with what looked like most of a table. K-2 approved.
  3. Up until two weeks before the Kessel mine revolt, Solo had been enlisted in the Imperial Navy for three years



All of these together point to the conclusion that Calrissian had been the one to associate with the Initiator (corroborated by his behavior at the mine revolt). He looks up Calrissian’s current whereabouts, finds a public holoaddress, and sends a message.

The lead K-2 has is a holo-site dedicated to someone called the Liberator of Kessel. There are no images, only text, and the writer clearly has more admiration than literary skill, so K-2 can’t be sure of anything. He sends a message to the site admin, and waits.

 

**Kessel**

The settlement of Valdattura is near the equator of the planet, far enough into the rain shadow to avoid the royal patrols, close enough to the preserve to have some natural irrigation. It’s an arid land, but not overly harsh. People can grow food there, with enough effort, and live good, simple lives.

The shuttle drops K-2 and Soraya off half a klick from the town. Livki Farwell, a human woman with smile lines and crow’s feet, meets them at the landing pad, dressed in a large swath of light gauze to keep the sun off. 

“Welcome to Valdattura,” she says, and leads them to her home. Soraya makes polite conversation while K-2 monitors the area for hazards. The first thing he notices is that there are a nearly equal number of droids and organics working the surrounding fields, perhaps due to a droid shortage. In the quiet side streets of the town proper, the buildings are enclosed by high walls, stand close together to create shade, and have numerous rooftop gardens. A guard dog leaps up as they approach, but Livki makes a soothing noise and, recognizing her, the dog returns to napping. It’s all quite similar to the desert settlements K-2 has visited before.

“I need to buy food for tonight,” Livki said. “Do you mind taking a side trip through the market, or would you rather wait in my home?”

Soraya glances up at K-2, who shrugs. She turns back to their host and smiles. “The market sounds lovely.” 

One of the main thoroughfares has considerably more people, and K-2 almost stops in his tracks when he sees the large proportion (thirty-eight percent, at first glance) of droids in the crowd. Many of them are simply walking or rolling, clearly en route somewhere, while others are talking with each other or with organics.

He looks closer. None of the droids he can see are wearing restraining bolts. Surprise, curiosity, and hope all boil in his circuits.

It takes a bit longer than K-2 originally estimated to arrive at the market, because people — organic and synthetic alike — keep stopping Livki to talk. Most of it the kind of day-to-day conversation about weather and crops, children and friends, neighborhood squabbles and village celebrations. Each exchange ends with Livki bidding them to ‘be free and free others’ and a low echo from the other.

“That’s an interesting farewell,” Soraya whispers to K-2. She seems curious but not overly excited. Either she hasn’t yet noticed the free droids or doesn’t realize their significance.

As they enter the market square, Livki smiles apologetically to her guests. “I’m sorry that took so long. Normally I shop first thing in the morning, and I forget how many people are out this time of day.”

“On the contrary. The delay was quite informative,” K-2 assures her. “I have many questions about your town.” 

“I think a lot of them will be answered when we sit down to talk,” Livki says. “And anything that hasn’t been addressed by then, I’ll be happy to explain.” 

The rest of the market trip is fairly routine, and K-2 mostly ignores Livki and Soraya in favor of observing the town’s droids and their interactions. Everything he sees supports his earlier conclusion that all of the droids have a high degree of, perhaps even complete, freedom.

They take a longer, winding route from the market to Livki’s home, presumably to avoid being waylaid again. Soon she’s inviting them into her living space, an apartment attached to a small temple.

“Are you a spiritual leader?” K-2 asks. 

Livki pauses in shutting the door and removing her cloak. “I am the caretaker of the Relics and the keeper of the Creed, yes,” she says. “Here. Please refresh yourselves, and then I will show you.” 

Soraya complements Livki’s tea, and K-2 politely declines the offer of an oil bath. 

“I was born in the south to a servant family,” Livki explains as Soraya drinks. “As soon as I came of age and would therefore not be my parents’ responsibility, I joined a group fighting for servants’ rights. We were arrested and sent to the spice mines in the north.”

Soraya makes a sympathetic noise. “That’s awful.” 

Livki’s mouth twists wryly. “Yes. It’s how things were.” She takes a sip of tea herself. “I was enslaved there for eight months. During that time, I befriended the droids as best I could. They wouldn’t let us speak with other organics unsupervised, but they were less careful with droids.”

“Typical,” K-2 huffs, and Livki smiles. 

“Yes,” she says, “but, in this case, to our advantage. Without MN-327, I wouldn’t have known what was going on. One moment, I was swinging a vibropick over my head, sure that my future held mostly exhaustion and suffering, and that the next moment, the shackles and collar fell off. They fell off everyone, and as soon as we realized it, we were fighting the guards and running. I found Min, and he explained what happened.

“Not all of us made it. The guards had plenty of weapons. The cannons outside got about a fifth of us, I think. It was hard to say.

I followed Min outside. We saw the Liberator fall, and Min told me that she had been the one to set him free.”

“She?” Soraya says,  leaning forward. 

Livki nods. “Yes. Min overheard the Liberator talking with her companions, and learned her referents that way.” She takes another sip. “He told me what she’d done for everyone. You’re finished?” she asks Soraya, seeing her empty cup. She rises. “Please, come this way.”

The two historians follow Livki to the door separating the residence from the Temple. It’s small, as religious structures go, or maybe K-2 is just used to the ones in large cities meant to hold many bodies at once. This one has an open floor of well-swept tile, high windows to let heat escape, and a curtained-off area near the back of the room. A stack of prayer mats on one side of the main door, a washing station to the other side. Aside from the curtain, it looks like any other Temple to the Force.

Livki leads them to the washing station, and they clean their hands and feet. 

She gestures to the prayer mats — and gestures again after Soraya takes one, clearly intending K-2 to use one as well.

“I do not pray,” he says. 

Soraya gives him a look that says ‘You need to humor our kind host, Killjoy, if you want to get all that juicy data.’ 

K-2 is unmoved.

“You are not required to pray,” Livki said, a slight smile playing about her lips, “but I do ask that you show reverence. Even if you do not worship the Holy Liberator, you will respect that we do.” 

Most of the time, K-2 tells those demanding his reverence exactly where they can shove their expectations, but this is the first time anyone has ever demanded his reverence for another droid. He takes the mat.

Livki indicates that they should put the mats in the center of the room. They all kneel to face the curtain (a slight clang from K-2, whose knees and feet don’t fit on the mat at the same time), and now that they’re closer, K-2 sees that same phrase, ‘be free and free others,’ embroidered over and over in different scripts and languages.

“Holy Liberator, we give our thanks for your aid in our time of need. We give our sorrow for your sacrifice. We give our way of life to your Creed: that all beings should be free.” 

It’s a shorter prayer than K-2 had been expecting, or maybe it’s just short because he and Soraya aren’t initiates, but either way Livki has them rise and replace the mats.

“The Liberator freed us, and then she was felled by the slavers’ cannons,” Livki says, leading them up to the curtain. Her voice is sad, but also has the sound of a memorized passage, a meditation. “Her companion took her away, hopefully to safety, though we fear not. To where, we know not. But she left behind the Relic, which lies beyond this cloth. Let us now contemplate her sacrifice.” 

Soraya and K-2 share a silent look. This one says, ‘are you going to be the rude one, or shall I?’

“Could you give us more data about the Relic, please?” K-2 says, and gives Soraya another look: ‘See, I can be polite when I want to.’

Her eyebrow raise indicates exasperation, but that’s all right.

“The Relic was a part of the Holy Liberator,” Livki says. She doesn’t seem keen on developing that idea.

K-2 has lost patience. “Which part?”

“Her legs,” Livki snaps. Then visibly collects herself with a deep breath. “There is some debate amongst the faithful on the nature of the Relic. Some of us feel that hardware is unimportant to who a droid is, while others feel that even if a chassis isn’t the same as an organic body, it was still the most-used tool of a droid, and carries importance that way. A very small minority believe that because her chassis was clearly custom-made, it was exactly as she wished it to be, and therefore reflects her wishes.” Livki shrugs. “There are some texts about this and other points of contention. I’d be happy to share them, if you’d like.” 

“Yes, that would be wonderful!” Soraya smiles. 

As soon as Livki has escorted them back into her residence, K-2 turns to her. 

“Are all the droids in Valdattura free?”

Livki smiles. “Yes. I, Min and other survivors of the spice mine founded our home on principles of freedom for all. No being may determine the fate of another here.”

“That’s really something,” Soraya says. She looks up at K-2. “Free droids and a temple to a droid saint. Sounds like your kind of place.” 

For four point eight seconds, he considers it. Projects scenarios of living as a free droid among free droids, and the organics who respected that. 

Then he arrives at the same decision he’d come to four years prior: he was going to document the Rebellion. He couldn’t do that without Soraya, or away from the Core.

“If you’re trying to get rid of me, you’ll have to wait until I’m done using your library access,” K-2 says, knowing full well she isn’t. 

Soraya laughs. “So I’m stuck with you for life, then. I can deal with that.” 

Livki smiles at them. “You know, the Holy Liberator broke our shackles, but it is because we rely on each other that we’ve been able to build this town. When we ran from the mine, the strongest among us carried those who could not run. We did all we could to help each other.” She lays one hand on Soraya’s arm and the other on K-2’s.

“Some don’t believe that. They think all beings are ultimately selfish, slaves to their own self-preservation protocols when danger strikes. But they’re wrong. Or maybe they’re just speaking for themselves. Because as soon as the first restraining bolt was off, we did what we’d always wanted to do. Not kill our captors, though we certainly weren’t careful when getting them out of our way. No. We escaped with each other. Because even if you yourself got out, how could you rest easy knowing others were still trapped? A mind is at ease when one knows their compatriots are also free.” She smiles again, and puts Soraya’s hand into K-2’s. “So it gladdens my heart to see that you two help each other as well. I am pleased to share our story with you.” 

“We are honored,” Soraya says.

“Yes,” K-2 adds after a moment. “Thank you.” 

 

**University of Corellia**

It takes several weeks for General Calrissian to answer K-2’s message, but, when he does, it’s with a personal holomessage of himself dressed to the nines, inviting K-2 and his associates to meet with him on Bespin. 

“You’ll be my personal guests for the duration of your stay,” his image says with a smile. “With all the hospitality the Mayor of Cloud City can offer.” 

“What!?” Soraya sputters when he shows her the message. “I’ve been trying to get an interview with Calrissian for  _ years,  _ and he rolls out the red carpet for you in less than a  _ month _ ?”

“Apparently my topic of interest is more compelling than the Alliance in general,” K-2 says, not bothering to hide his smugness. “If you promise to let me get all my questions answered first, you can come with me.” 

“Please excuse me a moment,” Soraya says, in a strangled voice, and goes to her bedroom and closes the door. It takes about half an hour for her ranting and swearing to drop below audible levels, but when she comes back out, she’s smiling.

“You should bring your nicest clothes,” K-2 advises. “And your jewelry and makeup.” 

The smile slides off Soraya’s face. K-2 records the moment for future enjoyment.

 

**Bespin**

Cloud City is beautiful: all white spires and curving walkways, domes shining in the sun, the clouds shifting between white and shades of pink, orange, and yellow. There are a number of areas of the city that have been rebuilt in a more raucous style, huge murals across entire blocks of buildings, the colors reflecting and complementing the colors of Bespin, the subjects covering everything from mining to revolution. Soraya loves it, exclaiming over the art and aesthetics. K-2 can appreciate those, at least, though he’s unsettled as they make their way from their landing pad to the Mayor’s office. He doesn’t realize why until he finds himself falling back into the old habit of scanning as many frequencies of comms chatter as he can access.

As lovely as the town is, it’s more space station than city. Being anywhere that required a ship to leave always put Cassian on edge, and, given their experiences, had conditioned K-2 not to like them very much, either.

Aversion identified, K-2 deprioritizes it and focuses on the corridors they’re walking. Soon they’re at the entrance, a pair of tall, decorated doors with translucent cutouts, and Soraya goes to push the bell before freezing, pulling her hand back, and gesturing for K-2 to do it instead.

“You’ve reached the offices of Mayor Calrissian,” a synthetic voice says. “Please state your name and business.” 

“I am Kay-tuesso. I have an appointment with the Mayor.” 

“One moment, please,” says the voice, and the doors open. 

They wait inside only for a few minutes, Soraya doing a mostly-successful job of pretending she isn’t bothered by the Imperial cerebral control unit on the assistant’s head (sliced to remove the obedience drivers, Kay would guess, given the man’s contentious expression that fairly dares Soraya to say anything). The inner door opens, almost a dozen richly-dressed people come out of it, and then Calrissian himself emerges.

“Apologies for the delay, Kay-tuesso,” he says, and something about the way he says it makes K-2 think he might be sincere. “I’m sure you know what large meetings can be like. Welcome to Cloud City!” he smiles, offering a hand.

“Large meetings are unpleasant and full of unnecessary repetition,” K-2 says, taking Calrissian’s soft hand in his own. “Thank you for agreeing to an interview.” 

The charming warmth of Calrissian’s expression dims a little. “Let’s say you’re the first to suggest this particular interview.” Then he turns to Soraya, congeniality returning full force.  “And you must be Doctor Kidell.” 

Soraya takes his hand in turn and smiles back. “Charmed.” 

“Please, come sit in my office. Lobot, if anyone asks, I’ve gone home for the day.” 

They sit, and after being fussed over (Soraya with a complicated beverage in hand, K-2 with a charging cable), Lando finally turns to K-2 with heavy eyes.

“So, you’re historians,” he says. “Writing about the Rebellion.” 

“The Alliance to Restore—,” Soraya starts, but K-2 cuts her off.

“We’re willing to branch out.”  

Lando nods. “If I tell you about Elthree, I’m going to need to see your final draft before you publish it, and make changes, if necessary.” 

Soraya shifts, but says nothing.

“We are willing to collaborate to achieve maximum accuracy,” K-2 says. “And are willing to omit historically irrelevant personal data.” Maker knows he’s been doing plenty of that about himself and Cassian.

Calrissian relaxes a little, nodding to himself. “I can live with that,” he says, and takes a drink from his own glass of multilayered liquid. “So. The most important thing about Elthree is that she refused to let anyone else define her. She modified her own chassis extensively. She added a protocol droid vocoder to speak organic languages. And she demanded the respect of those around her.” Smiling, he adds, “Sometimes violently,” his gaze going distant and soft. 

K-2 makes a prediction.

“We worked together for about six years. She had the best navigation software of any droid I’ve encountered before or since.” Now he looks down, an expression of...regret? Guilt? clouding his face. Then he shakes his head and chuckles. “One of the best brawlers I’ve met who wasn’t a wookiee. Very creative and good with using physics against her opponents.”

“How did you meet her?” Soraya asks.

Calrissian reaches into a pocket concealed inside his cape and puts the datachip he pulls from it into K-2’s hand. “The details are there. It’s my personal journal — well, excerpts from my journal, don’t want to incriminate anyone,” he says with a wink.

K-2 simulates a snort. “Especially yourself.”

“Killjoy!” Soraya hisses.

Calrissian throws back his head and laughs. “No harm done. She would have liked you,” he says, and K-2 is seventy-six percent certain that the tears in his eyes aren’t from laughter.

“Anyway, General Calrissian,” Soraya says, “we’d love to hear your account now, too, if you have the time.” 

“I’ve cleared my schedule,” he says with a smile.

* * *

Over two hours later, Calrissian brings the story of the Kessel mine revolt — and, apparently, raw coaxium theft, it was a miracle the man was still alive — to a close.

K-2 turns to Soraya. “Could you let me speak with General Calrissian in private, please?”

Blinking, Soraya slowly nods. “Yes, of course,” she says, off-balance. K-2 estimates that there is a sixty-five percent chance of her reduced processing speed being due to additional emotional regulation, thirty percent chance of there having been too much brandy in her drink, and five percent fatigue. “I’ll just...is there a guest room?”

“Of course, Lobot will show you,” Calrissian says, and sees her to the door.

He doesn’t come back to his seat, but goes to stand at the window. The late afternoon sun is intensifying the colors of the clouds outside. K-2 rises and joins him, a bit more than his own arm’s length away.

“Before I ask my next question, I would like to point out that our original agreement stands, and that I won’t publish, or even share with Soraya, information you wish to keep private,” K-2 says. He watches Calrissian take a deep breath and slowly turn to face K-2.

“What’s your question?” the General asks.

“Was your relationship with Elthree romantic or sexual in nature?”

Calrissian smiles wryly, drags a hand over his face, and turns back to the sky. “I knew you were good.” He takes another breath. “No, we weren’t, exactly. We tried it, but…” he shrugs. “We weren’t sure if it was just me she wasn’t attracted to, or if she didn’t feel attraction in general. Or at least, she never told me if she figured it out. I guess she could have kept it secret to spare my feelings.” He looks back at K-2. “What I do know for sure is that we were friends and business partners. For whatever that’s worth.” 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” K-2 says, and watches as Calrissian’s face crumples an instant before the man turns away. He gives him a moment to regulate his breathing. Then, surprising even himself, K-2 says, “My human lover died in the war. No one else knows what he meant to me.” 

Calrissian straightens, wipes his face again, and looks up at K-2. “Now it’s my turn to offer sympathies. War’s a greedy beast of a thing, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” K-2 agrees. They watch the clouds burn bright crimson, then fade to a dusty orange, the sky darkening behind them all the while.

“Installing her navigation matrix into the Falcon was a desperate move,” Calrissian says after a while, still facing the sky. “I regret not making Han take it back out once we were safe.” 

“You should,” K-2 says without rancor. It is simply a fact. “Do you know where the ship is now?”

Calrissian shakes his head. “Neither does Han. She’s changed hands too many times.” 

The clouds are slowly bleeding of color, becoming pale wisps against the sky. 

“If you can’t undo what you did,” K-2 says slowly, “Then you can do something else she would have liked. Something with enough scope to outweigh your regrets.” That’s what had kept Cassian from utter despair, though in his case it had been the entire galaxy he was trying to gain the forgiveness of.

Calrissian snorts. “What, like sponsoring legislation to make all droids equal citizens of Cloud City? Way ahead of you on that one.” His smile falters. “Only helps with the guilt most of the time.”

K-2 looks at Calrissian in surprise. “I retract my earlier statement. You have also exhausted everything I know about dealing with guilt.” He pauses. “Perhaps an organic software specialist.” 

Calrissian laughs. “You mean a psychological therapist?”

“Yes. Though I do not have any first-hand data. Their practice involves a lot of talking, so Cassian never saw one.”

“Maybe I should,” Calrissian muses. “Well. Thank you for sharing, K-2. And thank you for listening.”

“Likewise,” K-2 says, and offers his hand again. Calrissian clasps it, and neither of them speaks for a long moment, long enough for K-2 to notice that the sky has darkened to a deep purple. As he lets go, K-2 sees a star. 

 

**Hosnian Prime, 24 ABY**

The hardest thing about writing a book, K-2's known for a long time, is all the material that has to be cut. For length (the limits of organic reading capacity are really quite restrictive), for clarity, or for what Soraya still refuses to call ‘bias’ and what K-2 refuses to apologize for — there are many reasons to leave data out of their final product, and by the time they're done, there are more stories in their archive than in the book. 

Even if Soraya hadn't adopted L3-37 as a personal hero, K-2 would have insisted that they publish her story (minus the exact nature of the complications in her and Calrissian's relationship). But even he had to concede that the limitations of their medium (and audience) dictate that they keep it short. K-2 revises the prose until the original thirty pages have been condensed to fifteen, then ten, then four. In the end, he can accept that, if not feel satisfied.

_ L3-37’s life was brief, and ended before the formation of the Alliance to Restore the Republic. But she did not have to be present to inspire several municipalities into recognizing droids as citizens. She did not have to pick up a weapon, make a speech, or provide supplies to further the cause of the Rebellion. Her bold self-determination in the face of oppression, her refusal to accept exploitation in any form, and, above all, her unwavering dedication to the freedom of all beings — these were enough to leave behind a cascade of liberation in her wake that has outlived the Empire and will endure as long as other beings take up her mantle.  _

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr at [bright-elen](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bright-elen).


End file.
